There's blood in my mouth (Anthony Valentino)

[mara-claire gael dempsey]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] and it's bad news, baby i'm bad news ( WORDS ) 725 ( TAGGED ) Anthony ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Mara ran a brush slowly through her hair, watching her reflection move in the tarnished, aged mirror. Mirrors, they were funny things. They were the closet one would ever come to actually seeing themselves, but it was never really you. Mirrors could be manipulated, make it seem like there were things there that weren't. Could make you look misshapen, could make you look thinner. They could make you look happy. It was like looking at a twisted version of yourself, because it wasn't really you. The Mara that stood in the mirror looked pretty and happy, well adjusted, confident. Not the Mara-Claire she was. Despondent, desperate, trapped. She was staring at herself, but she was looking at a complete stranger really. Sighing, Mara applied the last bits of make-up, mascara here, a bit of rouge there, and turned off the yellowish light, leaving the room she had been living in, taking extra care to make sure it was locked. Not that she knew of anything anyone would want from there. But people like her, they could never be too careful. She didn't want to come back to a room with a surprise of any sorts. And then she was off again, another night on the town. Not because she wanted to go out, she would much rather stay in, a quiet night. But the people above her, the ones who had wasted no time in finding her after she had returned from her two month escape to Mexico City wanted something from her. No surprise there, really. She didn't get her hands too dirty, but Mara-Claire was an asset to the Irish mob. Her four years of snooping and informing had filled her with secrets. Mostly things she didn't care to know, things she wished she didn't have to know. Honestly things that could get her killed if she wasn't careful, if she wasn't playing to her natural talents, if she wasn't good at what she did. She had come to Valkyrie to find her cousin, but Mara was back to work just like always. The Irish mob had just come to Valkyrie, hadn't found it's footing, was not taken seriously. They were barely a blip on anyone's radar and that pissed off the higher ups to no end. Back in Ireland, these people were hot shit, they were respected, revered, feared. Here they were not even taken seriously, which was seen as worse than being shot at. Respect was the game they were all playing at, every single one of them. Respect and power. She knew her target, Anthony Valentino, a higher up in the Italian Mafia. Good looking, older, a guy with a penchant for pretty girls. So she had gone out, every night for a week like she'd been told, looking for this guy. Trying to figure out what he was like, where he hung around, what he liked. But so far he was nowhere. He was a ghost as far as Mara was concerned, and honestly, she preferred it that way. The longer he stayed hidden, the longer she could go without having to talk to the scumbags that employed her. The longer she could be ignorant of more potentially life threatening information, the longer she could avoid having to do the very thing she hated the most, that made her hate herself the most. The longer she could feign at happiness. Mara entered la fleur violette, another swanky, expensive restaurant, greeted by a wall of air conditioning and decadent smells. A snooty looking girl stood at the hostess stand, eyeing Mara up and down, obviously judging her every aspect. Mara-Claire tried to smile, but gave up, fixing her face in a calm, complacent manner, walking to the woman, asking for a seat at the bar. She was obviously judging Mara for being alone, it seemed to be rare for a single person to come here to dine, obviously a place meant for dates and couples. She didn't mind much though, just followed her to the bar, sitting, taking a look around, ordering a vodka cran. She didn't see him yet, but she was right in line of the front door, and it was 7. Still early for dinner and a drinks, but she could never be too early really. She could wait around if she needed to, wait around all night. clothes. Also, this isn't very good, sorry.

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by rilo kiley

[anthony adriano valentino]

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leaning forward, anthony grabbed his remote and flicked off his large flat screen tv. with a soft thunk, he set it back down and sighed, reaching above his head and stretching, his muscles rippling as he did so. he had a fondness for not wearing shirts, however society had deemed it inappropriate for a man to be shirtless in many situations, and he found curious eyes often drifted to his scar directly below his ribcage, so he tended to keep a shirt on to avoid questions. he doubted that hearing he was shot by a member of a different mafia family would go over well with most civillians.

letting out a sigh, he stood as his stomach grumbled and he slumped into the kitchen. he finally had a day off and he really hadn't planned on going out, but when he opened his fridge all he saw was a half-gallon of milk that had expired a week prior. yawning, he walked into his large closet and grabbed the first shirt he saw, buttoning it up. tugging on a pair of socks and shoes, he grabbed keys to one of his less flashy cars and walked out of his house into his four car garage. his champagne grand am looked dull next to his brand new camaro, but it didn't scream mobster like the camaro did. he was just an average guy going to lunch.

anthony never kept to a set pattern; with his job, it was dangerous. he didn't want anyone who shouldn't know where he was knowing where he was. he changed cars, he never went to eat at a certain time or a certain place, and he was careful to watch for anything suspicious. he didn't get where he was in the valentino family by being reckless. of course, he could be fooled, like any human, but he did his best to be one step ahead of the others. his biggest weakness, however, was women. he was always a little nervous when he got a strange woman to his house or arrived at her house; if she wanted to kill him, it would be much easier alone in one of their houses than out in public. he always had his gun on him, but he had never had to use it on a woman yet, and he hoped he would never have to.

he pulled into the parking lot belonging to la fleur violette and strutted into the restaurant. whether he was going into a meeting, or just being an average, wealthy man out to dinner, he was confident, a bit arrogant to some. after scouting the restaurant for a brief moment, he glanced down at his watch as though he was waiting for someone, gave a brief nod to the hostess, and headed towards the bar. he noticed an attractive, young woman, however he left a few seats between them, not wanting to be too forward. flashing a smile at the bar tender, he ordered a drink while he looked over the menu, glancing over the top to the woman nearby.

STARRING: mara-claire| WORDS: 514 | OUTFIT: click | DRIVING: click | NOTES: sorry it took so long D: muse flop|

TABLE BY AMETHYST @ DECIMATED DREAMS
PURPLESTRIPE93 @ CAUTION 2.0